“Oh, I had forgotten all about it!” he replied, with a cough and the usual hoisting of his shoulder. “I promised to go and call upon Epifanova to-day. You remember Epifanova — ‘la belle Flamande’ — don’t you, who used to come and see your Mamma? They are nice people.” And with a self-conscious shrug of his shoulders (so it appeared to me) Papa left the room.

During our conversation, Lubotshka had more than once come to the door and asked “Can I come in?” but Papa had always shouted to her that she could not do so, since we were not dressed yet.

“What rubbish!” she replied. “Why, I have seen you in your dressing-gown.”

“Never mind; you cannot see your brothers without their inexpressibles,”